


On the Campaign Trail

by GealachGirl



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Coming Out, Gen, I will go down with this kayak, Journalism, M/M, Mostly gen until the end, Nathaniel Fick for president, background Brad/Ray, but I'm still sharing it, campaign reporting, political reporting, stuck in a car, this was written entirely for myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:47:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23564758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GealachGirl/pseuds/GealachGirl
Summary: Reporter finds himself alone in the car with Presidential Candidate Nate Fick, and he stumbles upon the story of a lifetime.
Relationships: Brad Colbert/Ray Person, Nate Fick/Evan Wright
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	On the Campaign Trail

**Author's Note:**

> Informed by personal experience. You haven't lived until you've lived on gas station food for three days while trailing a presidential candidate across your state.

When he walked out of the bathroom, Evan saw the last thing he expected.

“Oh good. I was sure that was your car in the parking lot,” the candidate said. “Would you mind getting me to the next location?”

And that was how he came to have Nathaniel Fick, the junior senator from Connecticut and the presidential candidate polling at second place, in his car.

“So, you slipped away from all of your staffers, and none of them noticed?” Evan was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that the campaign left without Fick.

“I didn’t exactly mean to have them leave without me. But yes.”

“How?” He’d been under the impression the campaigns at least paid attention to where their candidate was.

Fick shrugged, but Evan didn’t believe it. And the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was this wasn’t an accident at all. Nate Fick was smarter than his campaign staff and if all the murmurings were true, he was rarely put in a position he didn’t want to be in.

Other candidates had tried, and Fick still had second place.

“Have they noticed?” Disbelief crept into his voice, but this wasn’t the stupid question he would have thought it was an hour ago.

“Oh yeah, I just told them I’m coming in with you.”

“And they accepted that?”

“They don’t exactly have a choice.” And again, Fick looked like he’d gotten everything he wanted. He was stretched out in Evan’s passenger seat, and for the first time he was able to appreciate how _long_ the man was.

“I can’t imagine your comms directors are thrilled you’re stuck with a reporter.”

Fick lit up in the wicked way he did whenever Griego dared to breathe in his direction on the debate stage. “Are you planning on grilling me?”

Evan wasn’t. Maybe that made him a shitty political reporter because God knew any other journalist would pounce at this opportunity. But Fick was more of a person right now and this was just a weird situation. Evan didn’t want to get too far ahead of himself.

Then again…

“Only if you’ll talk on the record.”

Fick regarded him with careful, interested eyes. “How about we play it by ear?”

“I can live with that.” Then he considered. There was very little Fick hadn’t been asked. As one of the most progressive candidates in the field, he’d already been hammered on details for his reform ideas, especially how he’d pay for them.

Of course, Evan could take advantage of the opportunity to press him harder and to ask follow-up questions. Now, there was no escaping down the hallway, surrounded by campaign staff.

“Your goal to restructure campaign finance, rebuild it from the ground up, where would you start to tackle that problem?”

Fick looked disappointed. “You know the answer to that question,” he said disapprovingly. “You’ve written that article.”

Evan shouldn’t have been surprised the candidate had read his work. He was around all the time and he asked questions that weren’t quite related to the news-of-the-day.

“And you’ve dodged my more pointed questions about it. I still want details.”

Fick sighed and turned his eyes up to the ceiling. “Obviously the biggest obstacle is _Citizens United_ and the entire corporate structure behind it. It won’t be easy and I’m not promising anything because it’s like fighting a dragon. Championing legislation to rework it from the inside is my first idea. Rally the more popular, more experienced members of Congress who would go for it. Then there’s a lot of regulation, which is just generally needed. With penalties on politicians who break the rules, but putting the weight of those penalties on the corporations.”

“So it’s not a well-thought-out-plan.”

Fick’s eyes fell back down to Evan. It was the look he wore whenever interviewers went after him in ways he thought were unfair. Evan rarely disagreed with him, but this was one moment. He let the silence stretch out.

“A lot of thought went into where to focus our energies, but yes the plan relies on factors beyond our control,” Fick finally said because Evan was better at playing this game.

He carefully kept the smile pointed away from the candidate.

“I expected more interesting questions,” Fick said after a few mile markers flew by the window. Somehow, they were still hours from their destination, and Evan considered questioning the campaign’s route scheduler. “You’re usually the one in gaggles who does that.”

Evan glanced at him and realized he was probably bored. The senator was known for never leaving down time unfilled. Rumor had it that when he wasn’t working on running the country, he was usually reading about ancient history or mythology.

A few times, Evan had noticed a book in the corner of the candidate’s travel bag or the stacks piled on his desk in photos from his DC office.

“The vote on military spending in April,” Evan said. “Tell me why you’re one of the only Democrats to go for it.”

Fick adjusted in his seat and stared at the dashboard while he put his thoughts together. And Evan remembered why he liked covering Fick so much.

“In short, I voted with my conscience,” he said at last. “It’s difficult to explain, but I read through that bill and I thought it would be wrong to dismiss some of the provisions in it just because the overall thing sucked. I know that’s naïve and lacks strategy, but that’s how I felt. People who work in the military, or who work to support it should be paid better and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to amend it in any way to make it better. So, let the administration have some more weapons, but let the regular people live, too.”

Conflict brewed between his eyebrows, like he hadn’t fully convinced himself of that logic, but it was the most impassioned Evan had seen him in response to a question.

This version of him came out during events when faced with a voter and a troubling story. Sometimes it came out on the floor, too. But Evan had never seen it anywhere else.

“That’s the hard thing about the job,” Fick continued quietly. “And I know that’s what they call politics. But I got into all this to help people, even if I’m only able to do it a little bit at a time. You need power to be able to swing it around.”

Candidates generally didn’t talk like this, but that’s what made Fick so interesting to people. He cared, and a lot of people figured he was telling the truth, especially when his face told everyone he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Evan had a strong suspicion, but he had to hear it from Fick himself before he could do anything with it. “And that’s why you’re going for the presidency?”

Fick’s eyes lit up and his mouth split into a wide, somewhat cocky smile. The answer was written all over it.

“And that spending bill still isn’t finalized. I know things the media and podcasters don’t.” Evan raised an obligatory eyebrow, and Fick’s answering smile said he appreciated it. “No, I’m not spilling to you.”

“But you’ve already offered an exclusive,” he pointed out.

“Your answers are in another castle.” 

Evan laughed and refocused on the road, then consulted with the map on his phone. The next exit was still 30 miles away.

“So why are you here?” Fick asked. He’d straightened up in his seat and was looking curiously at Evan. “I’ve read your work and you’re not the typical horse-race journalist. You’re definitely not the embed type either. Or, campaign embed, I should say.”

“You’ve read my work?” Evan asked, while he sorted out the answer to the question.

Fick watched him quietly for a moment, and Evan recognized the hesitation in his expression. It was more of a rhetorical question anyway, though Evan marked it to come back to later. There was plenty of time.

“This is a historic election. Documenting how people plan to preserve the structures of democracy falls into my typical coverage. Surely you’ve seen my work on authoritarianism.”

“And why me?” Fick didn’t look like a senator at the moment, he didn’t even look like a presidential candidate. He looked like a man who’d graduated from grad school a few election cycles ago and jumped instantly into politics with all of his idealism.

“You’re the one who talks about it the most, and you generally have the most workable ideas, according to the experts I talk to.”

Fick nodded. “We probably talk to the same experts. I’m not just going out there spouting bullshit.” Evan knew it was true. 

“That part does make covering you enjoyable,” he said. Fick raised an eyebrow. “Not that I’m endorsing anyone or showing my opinion. As a journalist, I’m no longer a citizen in our democracy.”

“You aren’t even going to vote in the primary?”

“My home state has closed primaries.”

Fick hummed and turned his head toward the window. A sign flew past and a moment later the gas tank alert chimed.

Evan swore and a moment later thought he should have done it quieter. All the same, Fick looked amused.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I need the bathroom anyway.”

According to the schedule he’d RSVP’d to, the next event started in about an hour and a half with another hour and fifteen of driving.

It sounded like enough time, but then, it always did.

“I guess they can’t start the town hall without the candidate,” Evan observed, eyeing the signs before the next exit for one that offered a good gas station. He always hoped for better food than crackers or trail mix and it was always hit-or-miss. Experience was teaching him where he could reasonably find hits.

“And I’m sure I’ll hear all about it soon,” Fick agreed.

The next exit promised a good gas station only three miles down the road and after some quick math Evan assumed they’d only be five minutes behind the established start time.

Just as they turned in to the gas station, the buzzing sound of the senator’s phone started up. He didn’t even look before he answered it.

“Hello Ray, I know,” he said.

Evan made a gesture that he was stepping out and Fick nodded while he talked to his communications director. Standing by the gas pump, he looked at his own phone to see texts from other reporters – a combination of jokes and congratulating him on managing to corner the candidate – as well as Fick’s staff. Most were from Ray.

He had more emails from the campaign. A short one from Ray right after Evan and Fick had left the last location, followed by a longer one threatening him about what he was allowed to ask.

There was only one email from the chief of staff/campaign manager. It was of medium length, and even though there wasn’t a threat spelled out in the text of the email, Evan still got the impression of it threading through the whole thing. And he believed Colbert.

Fick got out of the car, still on the phone, and shut the door with a distracted expression on his face. Still, he turned to Evan and gestured inside the gas station before he walked toward it.

After nodding him along, Evan considered what else they could talk about. Military history, he guessed. There were some more bills, too, he had questions about.

Everyone asked about the polls, Fick’s proximity to Schjwete and whether he thought he could close the gap – none of which Evan considered questions the candidates themselves should answer.

Everyone also asked about Fick’s healthcare plan because no one in America had decent coverage. This could be an opportunity to dig deeper and get the kinds of answers Fick didn’t give in gaggles or in TV spots.

But Evan knew people cared about more than just that. It was a major issue, but it was the only one. Fick’s other policies deserved attention too, especially the outside-the-box ones and those informed by some of Evan’s favorite sources. His plan for handling the country immediately after the incumbent was gone provided enough material for Evan to dig for the rest of the drive.

He had some curiosity to satisfy, too, about the senator’s life. It was the typical trajectory into the Senate, but he’d done it so much sooner than the typical person. And, deep down, Evan could admit he just wanted to have a conversation without gaining anything from it.

Nate Fick was an interesting, attractive man and they shared a reading habit down to preferred topics, as well as an interest in the multitude of social problems facing the country.

The pump stopped and Evan replaced the nozzle before reaching back inside the car for his wallet. He turned to the gas station as the senator walked through the door.

In addition to the bathroom break, he’d also brought snacks. He cradled his phone between his ear and shoulder and he looked annoyed.

“Yeah, thanks Brad that’s really helpful.” But his voice was bitter and sarcastic. “It’s not that easy for all of us and you’ve never been in the spotlight, so excuse me if I don’t adopt that solution.”

Evan made a mental note of this side of Fick’s personality, too. He wouldn’t quote it, but he’d explain how Fick could transition from grinning and friendly to scathing and serious. It could solve his problem of being seen as too nice, and reinforce the idea that he could be tough on the world stage.

“Okay. Yeah I get it. Okay, I have to go,” Fick said. He pulled the phone away from his ear and crossed his arms, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand.

Evan realized he was still standing there holding his wallet and shook himself.

“I’m going to go pay really quick,” he said, but Fick waved him off.

“Don’t worry about it. I took care of it.” His voice was light again, like was willing both of them to forget what just happened. Evan froze and immediately began running through the ethics and whether anyone would ever find out. 

“I can’t,” he started.

“I know, but it’s already done. Trust me, I won’t tell anyone,” Fick said. Some of the previous frustration leaked into his tone, but he kept it out of his face. Then he opened the passenger side and swung himself into the seat, and Evan realized it was actually pointless to argue.

“This, on the other hand,” Fick said, holding up a candy bar, “you could refuse this if you wanted.” He had another for himself and a challenge in his eyes.

And Evan shouldn’t have, but he reached out to grab it. Everything stressing Fick out melted away from his face, and he leaned back to unwrap his own chocolate with a satisfied smile.

“Three Musketeers?” Evan asked, genuinely surprised. Then he looked at his again. “And plain Hershey’s?”

“What?”

“I wouldn’t have guessed either of those.” He looked at them again and tried to recreate the senator’s thought process. “But you got me the most boring option?”

“I didn’t know what you would like,” Fick protested. Evan thought he saw a bit of color hit his cheeks, and there really was a first time for everything. “And Hershey’s is hardly boring. What’s boring about pure goodness?”

Evan had a rebuttal to that — an unfortunately well-thought-out one because of the way conversations in newsrooms worked — but Fick’s phone buzzed and he finally glanced at the clock again. And started.

“Well you’re going to be late,” he said, putting car into gear and pulling out of the gas station. Fick waved his hand in a distracted way.

“I can’t be late, it’s my event. And the distance combined with the way you like to drive will shave at least five minutes off.”

Evan chose not to interpret that, especially when he clocked what Fick’s face did when he looked at his phone. He didn’t ask the obvious question because he knew he wouldn’t get a response.

After only a few minutes, Fick shoved his phone away and turned to him to break the silence.

“Okay you did pretty well last time I prompted you about seizing this opportunity, but you need to dig a little deeper with your questions. Why not try for something personal?”

Evan narrowed his eyes. He was suspicious, but he wasn’t sure why yet. Before he could answer, Fick jumped in again.

“I know it isn’t exactly real journalism and it’s not what you write but come on. You’ve got me trapped here, and it’ll be on the record.”

“Wait, wait, why are you pushing me on this?”

Fick sighed again, though this one sounded like it reached deeper into his gut and it dragged through his throat. He tipped his head back and focused on the ceiling. “There’s something that’s going to come out, and I want you to have the story that digs into it, with words straight from the candidate’s mouth.”

Evan paused before he asked. Something lit up in his head.

Rumors he’d glanced passing through the internet and its comment sections; the more worthless of talking-head pundits focusing in on minor affectations and features of grooming from Fick’s events.

He’d always encountered it in passing, and no one had ever crossed the line to ask the question.

Evan let the thought play out for a few beats and shaped words around it. Meanwhile, Fick looked at him without an expression on his face. Just watchful eyes.

“Will I be breaking it?”

Fick grimaced and slowly shook his head. “Not unless you can get it up tonight. I’d think bright and early tomorrow morning would be the ideal time.”

“You’d be surprised. Political junkies refresh the news at all hours. Primetime tonight.” Of course, social media also provided a way to break news to a different audience all over again in the morning. 

Something like hope rose in Fick’s face. “Can you seriously have it done tonight?”

“I can’t promise, but it isn’t outside the realm of possibility.”

It looked like a weight came off of Fick’s shoulders and Evan saw how his chest moved with his deep breath.

“Can you get my recorder out of my bag then?” Evan asked, careful but also slipping into interviewer mode. “You said this is all on the record and I obviously can’t take notes.”

Fick reached into the back and pulled Evan’s backpack into his lap. “Front pocket,” Evan instructed, shifting into the left lane to pass a pickup truck. His mental clock had begun a countdown to their next destination.

The recorder landed in his lap and Evan didn’t even have to pull his eyes away from the road to hit the red button.

Silence reigned, even though he knew Fick had seen him do it.

“Senator, you’re going to have to tell me the news,” he prompted after about a minute of silence stretched between them.

Without preamble or preparation or even an obvious move to brace himself, Fick kept his eyes on the dashboard and directed his words that way when he said, “I’m gay.”

Evan felt the weight of the confession in his stomach, where it lingered. The information wasn’t a surprise and he wasn’t even sure it would be a bad thing in the eyes of voters. But this meant someone was angling to out the candidate, and Evan had a visceral sense of what Fick was facing and the injustice of it.

“Could you ask a question?” Fick’s voice was strained and Evan cast around for something to ask.

“Is this a new realization?”

Fick’s posture eased a little and he shook his head. “I’ve known all my life. Resisted it for a long time, and then I realized I didn’t have to tell anyone if I didn’t want to.”

Evan hated himself for it, but he asked the next logical question.

“Because you wanted to run for office?” In the corner of his eye he saw Fick hesitate for just a breath before he nodded. “Can you elaborate?”

“Until recently, it would have been impossible to think of any openly queer elected official, and that’s the society I grew up in,” Fick said. “I’ve thought, on and off, about coming out publicly but it never seemed like the right time and I kept wondering how much it mattered.”

“To you or the campaign or to voters?”

Evan turned his head in time to see Fick glare at him, but it was clear he’d just been caught off guard. A small part of Evan felt proud of that since Fick was always so well-prepared.

“Come on Sen. Fick, you know that’s an important question.”

“You can call me Nate, you know,” he said instead, his voice soft. And Evan was back to being the one caught off guard.

“Noted. Answer the question.”

Nate sighed again and looked up at the ceiling. “I wondered how much it would matter to voters and to the campaign both. For the same reasons. I didn’t think many people would be upset about it, so I thought maybe it didn’t matter if I came out at all. Which is why I never planned to.”

Though he couldn’t see his face, Evan heard a wince in Nate’s voice. 

“If elected, did you plan to go through your whole term without coming out?” Evan asked, incredulous. He thought he knew the answer though, and he figured that if anyone could pull it off, it would be Nathaniel Fick.

“Yes. Unless it somehow became important.”

“What would that involve?”

“A member of the press or my staff leaking it,” he answered promptly, but Evan could feel he wasn’t done. “Or meeting someone.”

Evan had to let that sink in for a few beats.

Everyone could recognize Nate had passion and that he cared about the people he spoke to and felt the urgency of the issues he talked about. No one would call him heartless.

But no one would call him a fool in love either, though Evan had always been able to see glimpses of how Nate _could_ be like that — mostly in the way he treated his friends who also composed most of his senior staff. So, it was only a bit of a surprise — to him — to hear what Nate would sacrifice if he fell in love.

“Are you thinking of a specific someone?” Evan asked, because he had to.

Most of the online rumors on the topic speculated he was secretly dating his chief of staff, but Evan had it on good authority Brad was dating the comms director; mostly his own two eyes, but also straight from Ray’s mouth.

Nate shook his head. “He’s purely hypothetical.”

And the interview continued, though not down that road. Instead, he asked more about what it was like for Nate to grow up gay, knowing he wanted something he couldn’t have unless he sacrificed part of his identity. They talked mild horse-race; mostly how Nate hoped and thought voters would react to the news.

When Nate was done and Evan had enough for a whole profile on the leading Democratic candidate and his sexuality, they fell silent, their words exhausted. Without Evan asking, Nate reached for the recorder, glanced at Evan and turned it off after his nod.

It was a nice quiet, though. Comfortable and unassuming.

Their conversation had also carried them the rest of the way to the destination. He tried to drop Nate off at the entrance, but the senator insisted on staying so the event couldn’t start without him. So, Evan looped around and around the parking lot, and finally found space on a side street that was just big enough for his car.

Nate seemed surprised. “Is it always like this?”

“No, but everyone in the press corps would love your campaign if they reserved press parking,” Evan replied as he grabbed his bag and checked it for everything he would need. Not that he’d be taking notes here. 

“I’ll tell the staff.”

Maybe before, Evan would have been surprised by that easy acquiescence to his request. After all, the voters who came to these events mattered more to the campaign than the press ever did. But now he had a better understanding of Nate Fick. 

They made it to the side door Brad had told them to come in through. Evan could see a staffer — maybe Walt, the head of all the organizers — coming down the hallway toward them.

Before they could be broken up, Nate turned to him. “Remember about that story: as soon as possible,” his voice was weak, coming out of worn-out vocal cords and a place of weary gratitude. “I have no idea when she’s going to run it.”

“Don’t make any news at your event and I can guarantee it tonight.”

Nate’s smile glittered, showing off all his neat teeth and carving deep curves in his cheeks. “I can do that. Scoop those bastards.”

And he did.

Evan turned the story in and called his editor the second he did it to emphasize how it had to be the first priority.

“Oh my God,” the man breathed into the phone.

Still burning with the urgency that had fueled his writing Evan just nodded. “Yes and we’re on the clock for breaking it.”

Luckily, Evan had turned in enough good work to him that his editor believed him without an explanation. “I’m on it now,” he said.

The line disconnected and Evan knew the next time he’d know anything was when the story was published.

In that case, he relaxed against the back of the booth he was in. The town hall was in a restaurant and it was just wrapping up. Evan could hear the familiar closing statement Nate always gave.

He packed everything up and scanned the other reporters’ heads and faces.

A few people got in his way once he spotted her and he worked quickly through all of the congratulations and the low-key bitching about him getting so lucky.

“Molly!” he called out.

She whirled around and her face lit up. “Well, if it isn’t the lucky devil. I hear you stumbled into the perfect scenario with our candidate. Get anything good?”

“Yeah actually, I just sent it off to my editor.”

“Hey, good for you,” she turned back to packing up her bag and her voice was light when she spoke again. “Wanna go out for a drink? I’m not leaving town tonight.”

Evan shook his head and marveled a little. “No, but I do want to know why the hell you would out someone without their consent just because they’re running for president.”

Her face changed instantly. Gone was the warmth and fellow-feeling. She straightened up from her bags to glare at him. “Look Wright. It’s newsworthy. Voters deserve to know.”

“No, it’s unethical. And bad journalism when you’re not talking to the source for the story. He could be the next president but he’s still a person, Molly.”

“Oh, and you’re better because you cornered the candidate in your car? I assume that’s the story you just filed.”

“He’s the one who gave me the story. Fick asked me to write it.” She shook her head and scoffed, clearly as a stand-in for saying something nasty instead.

“And now you two are buddy buddy, I guess. You’re just going to fawn over him, kiss his ass and get all the fluffy exclusives?”

“No. I helped him tell his story, on his own terms, now that he’s been forced to,” Evan said. He had to make an effort to steady his voice around the anger he felt bubbling in his chest. “You don’t — and can’t — understand what it’s like to be in that position. Someone’s sexuality is more than just a simple fact about them. No one deserves to have that publicized against their will. It’s not a novelty, it’s not a fun fact, it’s not even really anyone’s business.

“His place in the polls, voters, the national coverage don’t matter as much as the simple fact that he’s a person and you could have done real damage to him, personally, with this news.”

Rather than reply, she looked at him with narrow eyes for a long moment. “I see you know what you’re talking about,” was all she said before she turned away and continued packing her bag.

Evan didn’t want to leave it there, but he didn’t know what to ask for that he thought he could get. Definitely not an apology, and they wouldn’t run her story now that Evan’s was coming out; first and better, with words from Nate himself.

So he turned and left. Job done.

The story came out that night, at the peak time for people checking or reading the news. Quickly, the story was everywhere.

In the midst of his Twitter mentions being bombarded, Evan did take a chance to retweet from the outlet’s account to promote the story himself. He tagged Nate, even though the original did, too, and there was no way he would miss it.

He and the rest of the campaign were probably among the first readers.

Not even five minutes later, Ray retweeted Evan’s promotion. And that was when Evan decided it’d be best to mute Twitter entirely.

He turned to where he had the story pulled up on his laptop; never able to let a story go until he’d read it through when he no longer had control over it. 

# Nate Fick comes out, opens the door on his life in the closet, plans for the future

Personally, Evan didn’t love the headline, but as the reporter, he didn’t have any real authority over it; only suggestions. Though he really wished they’d used it.

#### Decorah, Iowa -- Candidates on the trail don’t have much time for real life between events and travel to them. Which explains why Nathaniel Fick, the junior senator from Connecticut and the candidate polling in second place in the Democratic primary, came out today while en route to a campaign event.

#### “It’s time,” he said. “And I’m not ashamed or trying to hide it, but it has been a difficult decision.”

#### Growing up, Fick said he always knew he was gay. At the same time, he knew the hurdle it would become as he lived his life.

#### Until recently, LGBTQ Americans couldn’t serve openly in the military or get married. Now, many states still allow landlords, adoption agencies and employers, among others, to discriminate on the basis of a person’s sexual orientation or gender identity.

#### “That’s the society I grew up in. I couldn’t imagine running for office, Senate or the presidency, as an openly gay man,” Fick said. “And ultimately, serving the country is all I’ve ever wanted. If I had to do it while hiding my identity, that seemed like a worthwhile sacrifice.”

#### Fick has served a single term and half of a second in the United States Senate and announced his candidacy for the presidency in March.

#### While in office, Fick has sponsored and co-sponsored over 100 pieces of legislation and successfully filibustered one of the latest attempts to defund health care across the country. He’s also been a champion of pivoting military spending toward service-members and their families, dismantling surveillance legislation and rooting out corporate corruption.

#### So, why come out now?

#### “I’m aware of the rumors and potential leaks, and I decided I had to face this head-on,” the candidate said. “This is who I am and I’m going to own it. And celebrate it, because, at the end of the day, this isn’t scandalous or inappropriate; it’s part of me.”

The rest told Nate’s story of coming to terms with his sexuality, how it helped shape his worldview and how he hoped people would react.

Looking back through it, Evan had to admire the tone Nate had struck, and the subtle ways he hinted at being forced into this decision. Evan had done his level-best to contribute with his narration around the quotes.

But at the end of it all, it was a good, rounded profile of a presidential candidate announcing his sexuality, and doing it carefully but not with shame. And — separated from everything that happened beforehand, Evan’s experience covering Nate, and the way he privately admired the Senator — it was honest and Evan appreciated for the first time that he’d been given the opportunity to tell the story.

He hoped it would make a difference.

* * *

Nathaniel Fick won the nomination.

Of course he did. He was more passionate and intelligent than his opponents, and he had obvious hope for the future of the country and a belief he could make it real.

The fact he was gay made some waves, and Evan paid close attention to those as he continued to report on Fick’s candidacy. The noteworthy, interesting ones led to follow-ups, but ultimately voters didn’t care, those that did simply focused on his other shining qualities.

From that long drive to the convention, Evan and Fick had remained friendly, in person and online. Brad and Ray were also always willing to go out of their ways for him.

Evan missed it though. It had been a single day and a collection of hours out of countless that he’d spent covering Fick, but it had gotten under his skin. In his weaker moments, he wished he’d taken the chance to ask more personal questions and explore their mutual interests.

It didn’t matter anymore though. It had never mattered.

Two days after Fick’s victory, another of Evan’s stories was blowing up on Twitter. He’d stumbled into strange campaign contributions for Griego and minor digging uncovered quite the scandal.

And now he could barely use his phone.

Barely.

The text message from the unknown number came through at least. Though when his phone buzzed — loudly — with it, Evan sighed and felt a wash of irrational anger. He’d been steadily hearing that noise for almost half an hour now and he could have sworn he turned off notifications for Twitter.

It was two days after the convention and Evan wasn’t sure he remembered how to sleep, which was why he thought he might be hallucinating at first.

But he blinked and it was still there.

_Hey, this is Nate Fick._

His phone buzzed again: _It occurred to me you might not have had my number. I had to ask Ray for yours._

Again: _It was exactly as difficult and revealing as you’re imagining._

‘You could have waited to see me again in a gaggle,’ he replied, a little confused. ‘Flag me down there.’ Because the campaign, and Evan’s role covering it, would never end. Which was good for the country, but not so much for Evan’s personal wellbeing at the moment.

Maybe he’d get a job in the press corps out of it.

There was a noticeably longer gap between Evan’s texts and Nate’s response, and for a moment he worried his phone had eaten it.

_I didn’t want to make it too noticeable_

Another buzz half a second later: _he’s trying to ask you out. Coffee dinner something private whatever. Plz end our suffering -Ray_

Evan’s first thought was shock and then to kiss that job at the White House goodbye.

And then his phone was ringing and Evan felt a small part of his soul — the one that had spent the past several days digging through FEC filings and private emails leaked to him— die.

As it was, he rested his forehead in one hand when he swiped his thumb over the screen and brought the phone up to his ear.

“Senator.”

“Hey. I’m sorry. I was, uh, hoping to do that more gracefully.”

“Is it true?”

Nate’s words stopped on a breath, like he was catching himself, or steadying. Nevertheless, the word caught on that breath. “Yes.”

Evan pulled up so he was sitting. “My bosses are going to be annoyed when they find out we’re dating.”

Nate ran with the punches. “One date is hardly dating.”

“If you think one is enough,” he replied. His editors certainly would. Nate just laughed.

“Guess there’s only one way to find out.” A smile had crept into his voice, and the sound pushed back at some of Evan’s fatigue to make way for a spot of warmth.

Nate had been doing all of his TV press from the convention site, so for now they were still in the same town.

“I know a coffee shop near my hotel,” he said, because he had to keep the game up somehow.

“Or we can have a private room at a real restaurant,” Nate replied, like Evan thought he would. “I am a United States Senator after all, and the Democratic nominee for president.”

“I had heard something like that.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you missed it. You’ve been quite busy.”

And just like that, Evan remembered just how tired and burned he felt. “A private room would be nice,” he conceded. “I don’t know how ethical it is for a public servant to throw their weight around like that.”

“Maybe you’ll have to investigate. You can start at 7 at my hotel.”

Evan glanced at the time on his laptop. He had about two hours. He could make it.

“I’ll see you then.”

Evan’s editors weren’t happy to hear he was dating the president-elect, but with three months for it under his belt and no sign of stopping, Evan couldn’t find it within him to care.


End file.
